I feel that our relationship is changing.
I want to read you more than I want to write you, but that's not entirely true–it changes day by day, inch by inch.
Dear Words, you've been good to me; you've been there when I needed you most. We've been good to each other. You've helped me see myself, brought me close to my mother, allowed me to bring my thoughts and feelings to life, to give them a voice.
Change is a doubled edged sword–pardon the cliche, dear Words.
In some ways, I've gone back into my little shell, keeping you closed inside but not entirely and–my solace found more and more, more even than before–in the stories in those books that I've come back to, new ones I've entered.
Oh, dear Words! How good it feels to talk with you–I know you'll always understand. I know you will know what I don't and that even though our relationship may change and keep changing, it will still be there–alive–to nourish us. All we have to do is write.
Because...there is a certain comfort...because even as I think this and write this, already we have changed. Change. Change, Change!
The same and different.